


Season 1 Episode 1 - Apéritif

by PaleGlimmer



Series: Hannibal Smut Companion [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Attraction, Bryan Fuller is my North Star, Desire, Dominance, Edging, Episode Related, Hand Job, Hannigram - Freeform, Kissing, Loneliness, M/M, Masturbation, Nightmares, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season 1, Seduction, Sexual Frustration, Smut, breath play, jerking off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 21:37:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17129177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleGlimmer/pseuds/PaleGlimmer
Summary: Will Graham has horrible nightmares, so he enlists his powerful imagination to help in some auspicious smutty self pleasuring before sleeping.The sexiest person he can think of is Dr Hannibal Lecter, the way he gives him bedroom eyes, and could easily dominate him... do reach the end, for a little evil surprise.





	Season 1 Episode 1 - Apéritif

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of the Hannibal Smut Companion series.  
> Every fic is a little piece of smut set in/around the events of each episode.  
> Every TV episodes resets events/characters.

 

In the comforting darkness of the bedroom, Will closed his eyes and adjusted his body on the mattress, trying to find a comfortable position. He inhaled deeply, then slowly let the air come out of his lips, his hands resting on his naked chest. He really looked forward to a good night sleep, but the thing had eluded him for some time now. Of course, he should have know that the new job was going to disrupt his quiet life, but couldn’t resist Jack’s request for help. How do you say no to saving lives? You can’t. You just find a way to live with the consequences.

The nightmares had come back almost immediately. They were always violent, incredibly confused. They were worst than ever. He would wake up all of a sudden early in the night, his heart beating frantically, his muscles aching. Drenched in cold sweat, lungs grasping for air, the mind racing with disturbing images. Then he would sit in his disheveled bed, his head in his hands, not knowing for a few moments what was real and what was imagination.

Did he dream of being hunted by a ruthless monster? Or was he the monster? Blood, there was so much blood. It would flow like a warm black river, through the wood, towards him, rising fast as a black ocean in the moonlight, washing over him. He would smell it, before being engulfed by it, then he would breath it in… and wake up screaming, still the taste of iron in his mouth. There was no further rest for him, after that.

He was ready to try anything, for a chance at a restoring, peaceful night. He had stopped having coffee after 5 pm. He had tried some meditation routines based on visualization of happy memories, but it turned out that his mind was incapable of glossing over the most minute details which ended up being not sleep inducing at all. He had tried jogging until exhaustion. Reading chick lit. Washing the dogs. Thinking about new middle names for the dogs. The only thing he hadn’t tried yet was sex.

The corner of his lips curled in a crooked smile, he couldn’t avoid sassing himself “I wonder why, though?” he thought. His life before Jack’s assignment was a good one. A quiet one, yes, but that was his choice. He loved being alone: no rules, no misunderstandings, no obligations. He could spend his free time reading, hiking with the dogs, repairing boats’ engines. He loved his silent house and the wind-beaten woods surrounding it. He loved the dogs dearly, and they loved him back. And still, sometimes he felt so lonely he wanted to scream until his throat was burning and the tears had dried on his face. Will hated lies and couldn’t lie to himself: many things in his life were his choice, but not this one. Not entirely.

Casual sex was out of the question: he had tried it but not even the horniness of youth had made the thing bearable, let alone enjoyable. He envied people who could share their body with a perfect stranger, no second thoughts. Intimacy for him was deeper that that. He needed tenderness and truth. Knowing that his weird self was accepted and loved exactly as he was, with nothing to hide or mask or lie about. And that wasn’t easy to come by.

He didn’t know how to get there, how to avoid all the social trappings that he hated and barely understood, to become close to someone in that way. The few relationships he had in the past were initiated by people that liked him, yes, but in the end wanted to change him or saw him as some kind of trophy or simply got bored with him. “Hey, look, I got the antisocial hypersensitive weird guy – what a catch! Now what am I supposed to do with that?” So he had given up on relationships.

Maybe his teenage years had something to teach him about taking the matter into your own hands. His right hand slid slowly southward. Now what he needed was just a good image in his mind…

Well, Alana Bloom was his first thought. The smart professor with the face of Snowhite that he had met working at the FBI Academy. She was tiny, with perfect proportions, but most of all she was self-assured, clever, respected… only one problem with professor Bloom: she liked him so much that she had taken every care to never be in the same room alone with Will. No, he couldn’t jerk off to someone who had so little respect for him. It was impossible to imagine her even slightly attracted to him: it couldn’t work, not even in his mind.

There was an other person that had piqued his interest lately: his new acquaintance Dr. Hannibal Lecter. That man was something: a commanding presence, a psychiatrist working with the FBI, but also a gifted artist, a musician, a dedicated chef. He was also a mystery, which was the most intriguing thing of all.

Will had found that Dr Lecter was capable of understanding him without judgment. During their long and winding conversations Will found himself lost Hannibal’s eyes time and time again: they were deep and caring. In them he read brilliance, curiosity and, yes, a certain amount of interest. He was sure about that: Hannibal would look at Will… with unmistakable delight. Some glances simply were too explicit for misunderstanding: the way Hannibal let his own eyes stare at Will’s hands, his arms, his throat. A couple of times he was sure Dr Lecter had let him catch him staring approvingly at his ass.

That such a man could be interested in Will was extremely flattering to him. Now, imagining a different outcome to their usual conversation could be the good idea he was looking for. How would that go? No doubt that every slip of Hannibal had happened on purpose: the Doctor wasn’t shy, he wanted Will to know exactly what he was thinking. Now was his turn to give more details to those insistent silent glances.

Will imagined entering Lecter’s studio in the late afternoon, the room filled by an eerie light coming in from the tall windows – exactly as he had done many times already. Hannibal would help him with his coat, slowly, the hands resting a moment too long on Will’s shoulders. Will didn’t sit in his usual armchair, instead chatting idly about some minor details of the work day, he leaned against Hannibal’s desk.

Hannibal was walking around with his feline gait, tiding up the room. While still eviscerating the unimportant events of the daily classroom, Will pressed the tips of his fingers on his eyes, to rest them for a few seconds. When he opened them up again, Hannibal was standing right in front of him, hands behind his back. Will winced and stopped mid sentence. After a beat, he complained “You scared me, Hannibal. I though you were on the opposite side of the room… do you always move like you’re a thief, even in your own place?”

Hannibal smiled with his usual energy saving movements, but a warm feeling did reach the eyes. In his eyes something else that wasn’t just professional interest sparkled too. But the psychiatrist did not move nor answered, just let his eyes slowly wander: on Will’s mouth, his neck, his chest, and then back up. Will balked under the weight of his stare, and felt an unstoppable blush run from his chest, up to his throat and to his cheeks.

One of Will’s hands run to the nape of his neck, signaling his embarrassment; he bit his lips and murmured “Now I don’t know if I need to be scared or…” He stopped mid sentence, turning his eyes away from Hannibal, his cheeks giving no sign of reverting to a normal color.

Hannibal asked simply “Scared or what, Will?” His voice was different, deeper, huskier than usual. His eyes not moving away from Will’s twitching face.

Will found the guts to look back into Hannibal’s eyes. “I don’t know… aroused, maybe?” He said with a half smile, his lips incapable of resting still, his hand still rubbing his own neck in a soothing motion.

“Will, in my professional opinion...” Oh God no, thought Will, what the hell of a moment for professional opinions, not really what I was going for, why do I always put myself in situations like... “…you are a shameless flirt, and your behavior has only been escalating.”

Lecter propelled forward prodigiously fast: in the blink of an eye, Will found himself with both wrists held together behind his back by the strong hands of Hannibal, the tall and muscular body of Lecter nested between his thighs. At a loss for words, his lips slightly parted, he could just look up at Hannibal’s fascinating face from the shortest distance that ever was.

“It’s time I give you what you deserve, Will.” Hannibal said the words with a menacing, low voice, his lips so very close to Will’s hear. His warm breath on Will’s skin felt like a loving caress and sent shivers down the spine of the younger man. Will’s breath was short, his heart beating in his chest so loud he couldn’t hear his own thoughts, his eyelids trembling, all in him showing the unbearable tension and desire that was possessing his body. And still Will refrained from making any move.

Hannibal let go of Will’s wrists. Both hands cupped Will’s face, pushing it back a little, as if to better observe it under the light. Then slowly Lecter lowered his face, and his lips started exploring Will’s mouth.

Will felt his entire body and mind melt in the long, passionate kiss. Hannibal’s mouth was possessive, demanding and merciless. Will knew that whatever Hannibal had in mind – and he had no doubt that by now the man had a well crafted, complete plan - that’s how their meeting would go. He felt relieved and abandoned himself completely to the other man’s desire, holding him in a gentle, hesitant hug and adjusting his body to minimize any distance between them, wrapping his legs around Hannibal waist.

Will had feared a too quick (maybe violent) intimacy, but Hannibal was taking his time. He’s treating me exactly like one of his dinner party, he though with embarrassed delight: as he was making a masterpiece where every detail counts, savoring every morsel of the feast that Will was to him.

While one of Lecter’s hands was still steadying his face and reveling in his curls – and making sure that Will’s mouth stayed exactly at his disposal – the other had started exploring Will’s slender body. At first it moved to his throat, gentle but strong, applying slightly more pressure then a tender caress would require. Will whimpered and push his body closer against Hannibal, to confirm his complete submission.

Hannibal undid the buttons of Will’s checkered shirt. His touch on Will’s naked skin was slow, deliberate and sensual, from the shoulder blades, to the chest, to the back. Will – his eyes closed – was overwhelmed by the physical sensations, the relentless mouth of Hannibal still reclaiming deep kisses, exploring with lips, teeth and tongue.

Will couldn’t remember the last time he had experienced passion like this. The interminable and domineering kisses of Hannibal were waking up something in him that had long been asleep. A dark wave of absolute longing was shattering his body, rising from the pit in his stomach, infesting every cell of his body and sweeping everything away: logical though, caution, discretion.

The only thing that mattered now was the merciless mouth devouring him, the strong arms cradling him, the tender hands stroking his skin.

The passing of time had no meaning while their bodies kept holding tight against each other, biting, licking, scratching, grinding. Then, at an indefinable point in time, Hannibal’s hands went to Will’s belt, and calmly maneuvered until his trousers were undone half-way down his thighs. With slow deliberate movements, he then pulled down Will’s boxers, freeing his pulsing erection.

”Will.” Said Hannibal in a raspy whisper, eyes closed, his forehead leaning against Will’s. “Will.” He said again after a beat, just a wisp of air passing his lips.

“If this is a question, my answer is yes.” Will muttered. “To anything you desire.”

He felt so vulnerable and exposed, half naked, bursting from urgent desires, his cock glistening across his belly. “Just don’t be cruel, please” he pleaded in a whisper, pulling himself as close to Hannibal as possible.

A rumbling low sound rolled out of Hannibal’s throat. It was primal and possessive and no word in any human language could be used to explain or to add to its meaning. “At least I took away his ability to speak, I have that on my side” Will though.

Hannibal was leaning against the desk now, with Will’s back leaning against him. The older man’s warm hands meticulously fondled the skin he had exposed: lower belly, thighs, ass, balls, cock. In Will’s mind flashed the idea that if Hannibal had wanted to model him out of clay, he could have done it even with his eyes closed – there was no part of him that had avoided examination, evaluation and analysis.

Will had reclined the nape of his neck against the other man’s shoulder, his throat exposed like a prey who has renounced to any defense. His parted lips let the air come in and out in short burst. He could feel Hannibal’s erection pushing against the clothing and his own naked ass. Will let his own hands slide between their bodies and began a circular movement with his palms over Hannibal’s tense erection. Hannibal’s mouth leaned against Will’s ear and rasped out one single syllable: “Don’t”.

Will stopped, marking his disappointment with a sigh, slowly raised his hands and whispered “This is your design”.

Hannibal grabbed firmly Will’s already wet cock and the touch startled Will, who reacted with a gasp. Hannibal went for a slow and steady rhythm, while Will was trying to maintain some kind of composure – but after so much longing, the physical sensations were overwhelming him, and he was a shivering mess of sighs.

Will was thinking how to communicate that he was already on the verge of a devastating orgasm – always the gentleman – when Hannibal’s other hand grabbed him by the throat, gently compressing the blood flow of the arteries on the side of his windpipe.

The world went out of focus and time slowed down for Will. He felt euphoria surging right from inside his chest, the effect of asphyxiation, permeating every fiber of his being. Hannibal was growling something in his ear, about tapping his precious desk if Will wanted him to stop, but to Will now nothing mattered except the hands that were keeping him on the verge of pleasure and taking away life at the same time. Nothing else existed in his world.

Every stroke of Hannibal’s hand was bringing him closer to a cliff surrounded by darkness. He wanted to jump, but couldn’t, and the cliff faded away, back into the darkness… until Hannibal decided for him that it was time.

The hold of the hand on Will’s jugular turned into a soft caress, Hannibal’s mouth gently rested near Will’s ear, Hannibal’s breath short as Will’s. Will’s orgasm came immediately and shook him from head to toe, a long broken whimper escaping his lips.

Beyond the void of the cliff, Will drift away from the fantasy, and hoped for a quiet, dreamless night…

\---  
Long after any sound or movement inside the house had stopped, a shadow retreated from the trees framing the bedroom’s window. The man put the night view binoculars back in the pocket of the elegant wool coat. Slowly, in silence, Hannibal Lecter walked toward his hidden car, in the company of unspeakable thoughts and with a smirk lingering on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the very first time that I write anything creative: it's terrible, but it's also a miracle that I never thought I could do. Hopefully I'll write more and better in the future. 😊
> 
> Thank you Bryan Fuller, thank you Fannibal family - for the smutty inspiration. 🖤


End file.
